Random Postcards

Through a lovely stroke of fate that began with a sincere, handwritten apology for calling me Frankenchick when he signed my senior year book, my buddy Steve and I re-acquainted years after we'd left our high school halls. He's in town once a year, at Christmas. We always meet for a long lunch. And the rest of the months of the year, he sends me cards.

Birthday cards.
Christmas cards.
The best Valentines ever.
And lots of postcards from great places. Coney Island. Egypt. The Texas State Book Depository Building in Dallas. The Coliseum in Rome. Peoria, Illinois.


Every now and then I just open my mailbox and there it is, waiting ~ another great postcard from wandering Steve. They're the only thing that makes it to my refrigerator door other than pics of my family and my granddaughter's art work.

You've got to see this one.

It's my all-time favorite.
Dropped into the mailbox by Steve,
a United States Air Force Academy alumni:

I'm pretty sure they were thinking it, too.